12th June: The noose for the long-eared

"...Me coat got torne.... 'couse.. when I was goin' ter fetch water with t' kettle.... which you know, got lost ...at firs." He paused. "Though I saw you found it again, luckily!" He had been very ashamed of loosing that too.

"...An' me rifle." Even more ashamed and upset about that. "...Well.. when I went there mindin' me own business and ours... I wos' not payin' t' attention I oughtta have. And .. I got near drowned...couse somebody right pushed me into the river and held me down till I couldn't do nothin, an' I couldn't breathe." He frowned. "So... I dun' know wot' happened afterwards rightly.. jus' woke up tied ter a tree, with me shirt and me coat torn, me mouth full of cloth that kept me silent and me eyes covered over so it was all dark even if me eyes were wide open."

He hesitated , pausing and looking at Cotton to see if he ought to continue and if the man... believed him at all. Shamed enough by having to admit he was incapable of fending off a hidden foe.

Cotton frowned, thinking. He'd known there was someone else involved - there was no way that Pye could have contrived to get into that state on his own. And he had seemed really proud of his jacket, too, a pride that hadn't been entirely feigned. Well... Cotton had to admit that he wasn't sure Pye could feign anything to that extent - he had been properly proud of his jacket.

"You never seen him at all?" he asked. "Sounds like that Sergeant Hakeswill, to me."

On second thoughts, it didn't. That sort of thing wasn't how Hakeswill worked - from what he knew of the Sergeant, he liked to set men up for a full military punishment, not deal with them himself in secret.

"Mebbe not, though," he admitted. "You got any idea of who it was?"

"I think I do now. But at the time, I did not know. I did not see 'im and.. I know is he felt some ill will against me. An.. he struck me across ..everywhere I think and with me rifle so I could see stars durin' a day!" Well it was an expression anyway.

"An..he's t' one who broke me fingers... I'd never had done it on me own! But he did. ...An' ...I think I know who he is by t' voice, couse I never seen his face. Only heard 'im!...."

No, he was pretty sure that that wasn't Sergeant Hakeswill, after all. "How's your fingers doin'?" he asked, instead of asking again who Pye thought it was. If he'd only heard a voice and had never seen the man, it was only going to be a guess at best - nothing that anyone could report to an officer. Which was probably precisely why Pye hadn't seen the man's face.

"..they'um better." Pye did not want to pull little Davy into this mess. He remembered the boy coming to his aid and that did mean he probably had seen the man, but he just did not want to expose him to harm or the dealing of the official kind which might mark him in a bad light forever.

"Better every day." He said with some confidence. "Cotton. I think I saw that man when we was prisoners...." He sure did enough to cause a bit extra pain to him when really 'assisting' the surgeon with his wounds. "...I don't think it's any enough fer t' officers ter know. An' it wasn't sergeant Hakeswill, yer mentioned. Oh I know him. I know him very well, from t' voice ter how he walks an smells like. " Could even say some of the things that ma carried in his knapsack stank, but he did not. "I would know if it were him more accurate than if I'd have seen him with me eyes. I was under 'im 'fore comin' 'ere, remember."

Cotton nodded. "I'd forgotten that," he admitted. "Bloody lucky you did get to join us, havin' him for a Sergeant. The bastard."

There wasn't anything he could tell Captain Vickery; suspicions weren't enough for any sort of a report.

"Reckon your fingers'll be all right soon enough an' you'll be back with the rest of us riflemen, able to do your duty an' all again," he added.

"He is." Pye agreed with the man and gave a sharp nod. "I wos' thrilled Captain Vickery let me...I don't know wot' woulda been if he did not, and t' sergeant would'a heard of it." Truthfully, he did not. He knew the best bet of any man was to remain invisible to the sergeant and not to have anything the sergeant would want for himself.

"I will have me fingers well an' self joinin' t' riflmen proper, and t' sooner t' better too." Pye answered sincerely. "Want' ter do wot' I'm 'ere fer, not be ' baggage at t' back, draggin' but givin' nothin worthwhile in turn."

Maybe he had got the man wrong, Cotton thought. Certainly everything he'd seen of Pye since their escape indicated that he wanted nothing more than to be a Rifleman, and a good one too. But then, what he'd seen of the man before their capture had never hinted that Pye might stoop to putting on a French coat.

He turned to look at Pye, studying him for a moment. He wasn't a man, really. He wasn't much more than a boy, and it was probably his youth and inexperience that had led to him making the decision he had. And really, had Cotton come up with a plan to get them away from the French?

No.

He sighed. "You'll be back with us soon enough, lad," he said. "You'll have to pull your weight properly then."

"I'll pull me own weight an' twice me partner's if needed be." Pye smiled timidly. "If you'll let me, I'll do more n' me share o' pullin' and pushin' ter stay ahead." He promised lifting his hand as to swear an oath.

"An'...if you've got anything yer need doin', any time o' day when we's not tole to march, I'll do it. Yer jus' call me an' tell me ter. No askin', jus' sayin' it, and I'll do it." He glanced ahead of them. Nearly there, where Cotton would continue with his work on the sword and he.. would probably curl by the fire, warm himself up that way and then sleep, if so allowed.

"Don't you go sayin' things like that, young'n. I might jus' take you at your word an' then where'll you be at?" Cotton chuckled. "Might tell you to wait table for me tonight, an' then you'll regret sayin' that." It would serve Pye right if he did, too. He wouldn't really request it, of course, but there was no need to let Pye off the hook so easily.

"Take me then. I dun' mind waitin' table on yer. Jus' so long you tell me wot' I need ter do." He spoke in earnest, not joking at all. "I'll wait from dawn till dusk if I'er need to." He tried not to imagine seeing all that food and being unable to have a taste. He willed his tummy no to have itself known. Food it would be, but he'd wait and stare at it, and do what he'd be told until dismissed!

"Another day, mebbe. When the Captain's got visitors." Cotton grinned. He hadn't been serious and hadn't expected Pye to take him seriously, either.

"I was jokin', Pye. Though if you want to learn, I'll show you that an' all - though it ain't anythin' special, really. Even I can do it - though I don't mind sayin' that it's the bit about bein' a batman that I like least."

"I tole you, an I mean it honest and true. Should you need me ter do any o' that.. and I am very willing ter learn, couse I learned.. even 'fore, but more now, that learnin' helps a man more than bein' stale at ol' habits. T' more yer know, t' better.. right?" He managed a grin there, amused.

"So, if you's decide you wasn't joking, I will be willing ter show I meant wot' I said too an'....I think I would like to learn it too." He chuckled. "You don't like bein' a batman so much? I thought it had perks fer you that you couldn'ta refuse!"

"Never said I didn't like bein' a batman," Cotton retorted. "I said, as the bit of it I like the least is waitin' table. I'm allus nervous I'm goin' to spill summat, or drop summat." He shrugged. "'Specially when he'm got visitors an' he's wearin' his best uniform, I'm allus nervous then in case I spill summat all over him! The job's easy enough to do, though."

"Oh! " Pye chuckled. "I thought you was never nervous about anythin'. The way yer seem ter do all t' batmannin' thing so effortlessly, thought you really coulda done it with yer eyes closed and yer hands tied behind yer back....err.. ok, mebbe just yer eyes closed. Ye'd need yer hands fer pourin'!" He smiled and thought that Cotton needed not to worry about doing something of the sort, because if his arm was steady enough to make him the best shot in the Rifles, proven well twice and on other, battling occasions, then it could surely be steady enough not to give the captain an unfortunate, unexpected bath of wine, port or whatever else the man would drink at a dinner.


"I know I couldn' manage it. I'd jump up t' moment I was addressed, all startled an' then... things would be places they oughnt' be!"

Cotton grinned. "I was a farm worker afore I 'listed - I'd not bin inside the big house but once or twice, an' then it was only the kitchen I got to see, an' not even that, really, standin' in the corner with me hat in me hand."

He shrugged. "I spent all me life workin' out o' doors - it's why me face an' hands are as brown as they are. They don't ever go as white as me arms do, not even in winter." He showed the back of his hand to Pye, pulling the sleeve of his jacket up a little to show the contrast. "I never 'spected to ever be a servant to anyone - an' certainly I never 'spected to be an indoor servant. You should have seen me the first week after the Captain took me on. I was shakin' almost like a leaf in a storm, I was that feared I'd get summat terr'ble wrong!"

"You,... shakin' like a leaf?" Pye studied Cotton incredulously. "That's a lie if I ever heard one!" He peered at the man closer, then shook his head. "Say.... let's jus' pretend ter say I believe you on that you was ever shakin' like a leaf outta being scared o' t' captain. Did yer then.. do sumthing that justified yer worries? Like spillin' something where it was not at to be spilled?"

"It's true as I'm a-standin' here!" Cotton protested. "Come close to it once. I knocked a plate of stew as I was puttin' it on the table - slopped it over the side of the dish onto the table. I don't think any of it went on him - I'd've known about it if it had. It was pipin' hot, that was." He adjusted his rifle on his shoulder. "I hadn't really bin that close to an officer afore, not for more'n a chat over a cup of tea, an' I was fair frit when the sergeant called me name an' told me I was goin' to be the Captain's batman."

"So...so you near spilled good food?" So Pye thought more of the poor plate of yummy stew, then the table, and he needed to shake his head to think that it would have been more horrible if that delicious stew would have hit an officer, even Vickery. But, since the man persisted with Cotton it did mean, it could not have been as bad.

Still. Stew!

"Wot' did he do? Sure he understood you was still a learnin' your ways. Couse he understands that with us...new ones. 'fcourse he expects us ter do best we can, but he ..I think he understands we need practice ter do it better." He tilted his head a bit. "Um.. if'n yer ever go spillin' t' stew, can I wash ter ..ter... is it linen on t' table?" His tummy at last rumbled it's agreement and he looked at the fire quite timidly. For it had near come in his way, now that they were back in camp. "Why's food so fine?"

"He was all right about it. Jus' picked the plate up an' told me to get a cloth to wipe it up with." He shrugged. "He'd told me that the first coupla weeks was jus' to see how we got on, an' if either of us didn't want to carry on after that, it'd be all right."

He bent to check that there was enough water in the kettle for tea before putting the kettle over the fire. "Dunno. Eatin's better'n starvin', ain't it?"

"It is. Oh, dear sir, it is! Bloody darn it is." He exclaimed and blushed, grinning. "Dunno a man who'd like starvin'. I don't!" He shook his head with a few sharp jerks. "I dun' ever want ter starve again..but I know we might get scarce with food. I jus' hope it will be long till we need ter look like starved creatures."

"Makin' t' tea for Captain Vickery?" He asked indicating the kettle and then sat himself down checking their supply of wood and considering it well enough for now.

"I'll tell you a secret," Cotton said once the kettle was settled and the fire was burning more strongly under it. He knelt back and wiped his hands on his trousers, smearing them with dirt and ash. "You keep that there chick of yourn warm an' fed, an' you look for her eggs when she'm big enough to start layin'. An' when you find her eggs, you keep 'em safe an' boil 'em just as soon as you can. If you've got summat like a boiled egg to eat, you might be hungry but it's better'n nothin'."

He got to his feet. "I've put enough water in for the Captain, if he wants a drink, but if he don't, there's no harm done."

"An, If I find eggs I'll give 'em ter t' riflemen as well. Well you an' a coupla others. Not Palmers. ...They'd sooner want ter crack t' had of me chick then be thankful fer an egg." He smiled proudly though, as he was certain to have his chick grow up well fed and with many eggs when she was old enough.

"Oh, did yer know. Burke.. I think he's Irish."

"I reckon she'll only lay one a day, lad." He shook his head genially. "No, I don't know Burke, though you've told me a bit about him. You said he was learnin' you some Irish, I think?"

"Yes. He is! I know several things ter say now in his tongue. An.. he said me saying it wasn't that bad. I mean, t way I said it." He grinned. "I'll help him with German, and he will teach me....Cotton, yer might not agree with it, couse I know many wouldn't.. but I do want ter learn it." He spoke of Irish of course. "An.. if she only lays an egg a day, each day t' egg will go ter someone else. Fair."